


Literary pursuits

by DecorDilemma



Series: MegaRod Week 2020 [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Transformers: Lost Light 25
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:20:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26980537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DecorDilemma/pseuds/DecorDilemma
Summary: Every once in a while, when Rodimus has a shift free, he comes down to the library.
Relationships: Megatron/Rodimus | Rodimus Prime
Series: MegaRod Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1969036
Comments: 9
Kudos: 29
Collections: Megarod Week





	Literary pursuits

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the first day of the MegaRod Week, for the prompt "poetry".

On occasion, Rodimus wakes up and there is nothing waiting for him on his to-do list. When that happens, he either goes to the bridge to give Minimus a reminder of why he sends those to-do lists in the first place—to keep Rodimus from bothering him while he's on shift—or he marks himself as busy on the schedule and drives to the elevator at the other end of the ship. This time, he chooses the latter.

Rodimus is far from the most bookish person on the Lost Light. He vastly prefers action to silent contemplation and it took him close to a vorn to realize that there was a library being built. It’s not often on his mind, even now. Where Megatron writes to escape the dark things still lurking in his processor, and to sort out his thoughts, Rodimus leaps into danger helm first.

But while he would never admit it out loud, especially to Megatron, he does enjoy the rare break from heroic escapades. And during those breaks, he favors the peace of the library.

In a way, the library is not very peaceful. It spreads throughout the fifth sub-level like some well-fed organic plant, and Whirl jokes that it will one day swallow the ship. It was originally built to store the crew’s ever-increasing collection of data from the worlds they visit, and the plan was it would fill a room or two. It would be fine, they said. Someone would surely come up with a better solution before space became an issue, they said.

Now the entire level is filled to the brim with datapads from all across the universe and Brainstorm is working on a minuscule, centralized data storage to replace it. The project will almost certainly cause at least one more explosion before finalization, and for the time being, Rodimus can hide there for a full shift without being found.

He transforms the moment he is out of the lift. The section he’s heading for is on the other side of the level, almost as if its curator doesn’t want guests. Hah. No luck there.

Rodimus has followed the route so many times he remembers the order of the shelves. The medical library is closest to the entrance, the rows of datapads on universal anomalies are set a bit further in, and so on it goes… Until the poetry section at the very back. The last time he complained about it, Megatron explained that the sections are in order of priority in an emergency, then shrugged and said he’d reconsider the placement once a poem saved the universe. Ever since, Rodimus has been waiting for his chance to say, “I told you so.”

Speaking of, Rodimus always makes sure that Megatron isn’t in the library with him. He has a habit of recommending Rodimus something to read from the latest planet they’ve been to, and the material is always drier than the rust sea. As much as he and Megatron have in common, their taste in literature almost never intersects. Which is kind of ironic, considering why Rodimus comes to the library.

It takes a few minutes for him to drive from the elevator to the correct shelf. Once there, he transforms and checks the label: _Cybertronian poetry, city of Tarn_

Megatron knows Rodimus comes here, of course, and Rodimus knows he doesn’t mind. Quite the opposite. His works are public, after all, and he is glad Rodimus shows interest in them. What Megatron doesn’t know is the _why_ , and Rodimus isn’t about to tell him. Yet.

He walks along the shelf, trying to find where he left off. It has been months since he last came down here.

The datapad he ia looking for is on one of the higher shelves. He reaches up, struggling to get his digits around the datapad. There are ladders available at the end of each section, but taking one would force him to walk all the way to this shelf, wasting precious minutes.

Soon enough, he manages to tilt the datapad so that it drops down, and he catches it carefully before it can crash onto the floor. There are backups of everything on the shelf in Megatron’s old quarters, but they have to build their own datapads from scratch, so he’d prefer not to break one.

Instead of taking the pad and going in search of one of the many reading nooks scattered around the level, he sits down and leans back against the shelf. As he activates the datapad, he stops to dig another one out of subspace. The latest note on that one indicates that he last left off in section nine-eight-six. About halfway through.

It is one of Megatron’s newest works, finished only a few deca-vorns ago. And Rodimus has been reading it for the last decade. Which might say something about how fast a reader he is.

Anyway, Megatron wouldn’t like it if he sped through his works—he takes a lot of pride in his writings. Enough so that Rodimus wants to do justice to them, to write something for Megatron.

Hence the reading.

And the endless notes.

And, sometimes, frustration. He can’t help it—he’s not a natural poet.

But he’s almost done.

So far, Rodimus has finished two poems, inspired by and written in answer to Megatron’s works. He is now in the middle of writing a third. While he can’t swear on the quality, according to Megatron, what matters is that a piece of writing comes from the spark. Rodimus is loath to disappoint, largely because he intends the poems to be his act of profference, which Megatron has been waiting for for almost three millennia.

He puts as much of himself as he can into each poem and hopes it shows. He can’t write fast, but he can try to make the wait worth it.

As he starts reading the next of Megatron’s poems (“Reflections on the glass mountain of Duorwa-7”), he thinks of how this project of his began. He had intended it to be a prank, almost. A way to get a laugh out of Megatron and to maybe have a bit of fun at Swerve’s. He meant to first do some reading in order to figure out how poems work, and to then spend a few shifts writing one of his own.

But it turns out that writing is hard. Hard enough that before he could finish a single line, he and Megatron had begun to go through the rites.

And then his inspiration ran into a wall. And then another. And another.

And at some point, as he had to put more and more effort into it, the poem stopped being a joke.

At this point, Rodimus has nearly caught up on Megatron’s entire body of work and has two and a half poems ready and waiting. The first one is a reply to his early work, the second is commentary on what little he wrote during the war, and the third is for all the rest. T

he third poem is by far the most important.

Which is why Rodimus comes down here whenever he can and pours as much of himself as he can into creating the best poem that he can. He always leaves the library exhausted.

His progress is achingly slow, and he can hear Drift’s voice in his processor even now, asking if it’s worth it. Thankfully, the answer is simple:

In all his poetry after the quantum jump, Megatron has described everything in detail. The smallest molecule is as important as the largest star, and every single glyph is full of wonder. Even for someone like Rodimus, the warmth in his writing is unmistakable. And Rodimus wants to give some of that warmth back.

If he can just do that, it will all be worth it.

Rodimus’s writing may be mediocre, but with every change he makes, he sees more of himself reflected in the glyphs. More than anything, he sees his feelings for Megatron grow stronger in the text, and his hope is that Megatron will see the same.

It’s a hopelessly romantic notion, he thinks, but Megatron isn’t the type to mind.

Besides, if they ever do need to save the universe with a poem, maybe now Rodimus can do the saving.

**Author's Note:**

> Meanwhile, Megatron watches the security cameras and smiles.
> 
> I think I struggled with this prompt the most. In the end, since I didn't have time to write actual poetry for this, I went for something vaguely related. :D


End file.
